


you're oh so pretty (i can't hold my breath.)

by orphan_account



Series: can’t live without you [4]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Gen, Inappropriate Flirtation in an Inappropriate Place, M/M, author is bored, kun doesn't, kunil babies pls interact i'm dying, let's see, taeil fights, they're in a holding cell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 15:05:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19153450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “I don’t usually do that,” he says aloud.“It shows,” Biker Jesus says..or: kun gets his ass saved by biker jesus (taeil) but both of them end up in a holding cell where they flirt. that's it, that's literally the plot.





	you're oh so pretty (i can't hold my breath.)

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: inappropriate flirting in an inappropriate place
> 
> title from got7's rewind

The holding cell, just like Ten had described, has a splatter of blood on the wall, right next to the words _FUCK THE SYSTEM_ that look like they’d been scratched out with the nails of a four hundred year old witch.

 

Kun isn’t keen on finding out why the fuck there’s blood on the wall of a holding cell, much less why the splatter is so big and symmetrical, so he just slowly settles on the bench that looks least disgusting and sighs. The adrenaline in his blood is mostly gone now, replaced with a growing sense of dread and exhaustion, and the buzz of alcohol that had driven him to commit the actions that ended him up in a holding cell makes his stomach swirl. Belatedly, he wonders if the others would ever let him live this humiliation down, or if he should just pack his things up and go back to China when all this is over just so he won’t have to face anyone again.

 

“I don’t usually do that,” he says aloud.

 

“It shows,” Biker Jesus says.

 

Biker Jesus is the guy who’d heroically swooped in and saved Kun from getting his pretty face throttled in on the corner of that shady street he’d been walking through. Kun is drunk, but not drunk enough to forget the crunch of the assailant’s nose under Biker Jesus’ fist and the loud _eugh_ that had resonated through the empty street when he’d hit the asshole directly in the throat. Biker Jesus took the brunt of most of it -- he’d almost been knocked off his feet taking a punch to the gut and had a busted lip that didn’t look like it felt very pleasant, and he’d had to explain what was going on to the cops while getting arrested while Kun nursed a bruised wrist in the corner like a helpless lamb.

 

“You know when you throw a punch,” he starts, tilting his head to level Kun with an amused, coquettish stare that makes Kun feel like the inside of his chest has been doused in gasoline and lit with a singular match, “you’re supposed to _aim_ properly, right?”

 

Kun winces, thinking of how his punch had flown right past the asshole’s head and collided with a nearby wall. His left wrist is still feeling the impact of folding into itself because of the concrete. It’s beginning to look like a good idea to fuck off to China and never come back.

 

“I was drunk,” he says, defensively. He doesn’t say that even if he was sober he’d have missed that one because he panicked.

 

Biker Jesus laughs quietly. Even in less than ideal conditions, with a the side of his cheek bruised and his bottom lip split, dirt in his hair where he’d been knocked into the ground, dust on his torn jeans and blood on his knuckles while leaning against the bars of a holding cell, it’s clear that he’s a handsome man. Kun’s always had it bad for this type, the biker delinquents with the silver studs in their ears and the painted nails and leather on every occasion, so it seems fitting that he’s stuck here with one after a humiliating encounter he’d rather not re-live.

 

“Happens to the best of us,” Biker Jesus tells him. He tilts his head up, leaning against the bars though his eyes remain locked on Kun like he’s more interesting than the bloodstain on the wall. “Don’t go around walking alone at night, kid. You never know what kind of people there are in this world.”

 

He sounds condescending, the way he smirks and says the word _kid_ like it’s an insult, like he’s trying to intimidate Kun into looking away.

 

“Thank you for the concern,” Kun says, tone sharper than he intends to. He’s never taken kindly to being looked down on, even less by hot strangers who’d punched a drunkard for him. “But I think I’ll be fine.”

 

There’s a pause. Biker Jesus stares at Kun, eyes flickering from the way he’s cradling his wrist to the mole under his eyebrow and the shirt he’s wearing, and Kun stares back, determined not to lose even though he has no idea what he’s playing at.

 

_Hook._

 

“Taeil,” Biker Jesus says, stepping forward and extending his hand towards Kun, a gesture of friendliness he would appreciate if it weren’t for the teasing expression on Biker Jesus’ face, the amused smirk curling at his pretty lips, “I’m Taeil. You are?”

 

“Don’t go around giving your name out to strangers, _Taeil_ ,” Kun tells him, and he can’t help the smirk that twists at his lips. He’s here, in a holding cell with a stranger who’d saved him from getting throttled in a shady road, said stranger watching him like he’s taking him apart one bit at a time. “You never know what kind of people there are in this world.”

 

_Line._

 

He’s exactly Kun’s cup of tea, torn clothes and no inhibitions and a pretty face just begging to be wrecked, voice like honey that could charm anyone into their will. He laughs and retracts his hand, running it through his dark hair instead.

 

“You and I will get along well, I think,” Taeil says, and sits next to Kun on the bench, their shoulders close enough to touch.

 

_And sinker._

**Author's Note:**

> twt: @yellowsannie (can't be arsed to tag i'm sorry)  
> also note: ateez comeback tomorrow please support them with all u have


End file.
